


Fatherhood

by porgsploitation



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Death, F/M, Gen, Major character death - Freeform, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-23 02:35:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23537746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porgsploitation/pseuds/porgsploitation
Summary: Alex can’t stop prying and Richard, to his chagrin, can’t stop answering. She continues to be surprised by him. There is angst and pining and Richard has to confront his 'dad' energy.
Relationships: Alex Regan/Richard Strand Richard & Charlie, Mentions of Cheryl, original female characters - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Fatherhood

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to the fandom, and I can't find any information on where Charlie came from, and since Richard Strand is full of tragedy it had to be a tragic backstory. Please enjoy the angst, happy to be here!

Richard Strand dresses differently when they’re on the road. Or at least he’s started to dress differently. Rather than his very expensive suits he switches it out for levis and flannels of various colors, mostly blues and greens, occasionally a red one that seems to have a special significance. The glasses stay the same, and he’s meticulous about shaving and some kind of skin care routine that doesn’t make him look his 60 years - but sometimes-

Sometimes he doesn’t shave and she often wants to scream that it’s “not fair” because every single teenage girl with father issues is going to look at him and beg him to keep them safe - and probably a few teenage boys as well. He is still the consummate professor however and even after she’s recorded a few things he appears at her door - at 10:30 at night - with a stack of papers claiming the light is better in her motel room.

He has been doing this, ( which doesn’t help with the fatherly flannel or the unintentional (or intentional) air of “damaged protagonist with tragic backstory protecting people while brooding from the shadows” that he cultivates) on the trip. When she brings it up he just stares at her and leaves, and so she has stopped doing so and he sets himself up on her desk and opens his own laptop. Hers has stickers on it (Believe Survivors, Doctor Who, Marvel, Star Wars, Batman) and he gives it a slightly condescending look before opening his own. 

She wonders if his actual child, if Charlie, has a laptop with stickers. She wonders if he does the same thing, appearing like a spectre in the darkness, a comforting pillar of something. She brought a bottle of wine, thinking it might help her sleep, but instead she’s just staring at him. When she was 7 years old she encountered a chinese finger trap for the first time. She had figured it out and put it back on - going to her father and demanding he cut it off. When he’d asked why she claimed (apparently) _Because I want to see how it works_.

That was how she was. She had to pull something perfectly ordinary apart to see the mystery of it. It was something she shared in common with the man sitting at the table -

The only problem was that the man sitting at the table used that power for good instead of evil, and he was unwilling to unravel _people._ Not for the first time Alex Regan confronted that she wanted to unravel people, an unreasonable request. Richard just wanted to make things easier for all of them. _I’m disgusting_ she stared down at her hands and tossed self-hatred onto the pile of - _Things that are getting worse the less I sleep_ before staring directly at him.

In a typical dad move he didn’t look up, continuing to work as he responded, “Did you need something?”

“...How’d you know I was staring at you?”

“You just confirmed it.” He turned over his shoulder, a hint of real amusement on his face, “You’re hopelessly predictable sometimes Alex Regan.” 

“You are such a dad.” It was the alcohol and the very pleasant buzz across her features, “God you give off huge dad energy it’s just like-” she blew out a breath and he actually stopped, turning to stare at her very confused, “In bed by 9, 10 on the weekends, eat your vegetables and maybe we’ll go to McDonalds on Sundays.”

Something unreadable crossed his features, “...Last I checked you were old enough to make your own decisions.” He sounded profoundly uncomfortable, loud enough that even in her inebriated state, “So as long as you...just keep doing that I think we’ll both be fine.” Unraveling people, not places. Unraveling humans, not mysteries. _I’m disgusting_.

“You can’t be serious. Did you see the way the clerk looked at you? Huge dad energy. You just give off this very...brooding papa bear vibe.” She lolled back on the bed, “And I’m not being rude I’m just being honest.” _I’m being very rude_ , “I’m going to go and walk Goldilocks through the woods and keep her safe and then stalk back to the clearing and live my life amongst the trees and bees and spare people my tortured backstory.” _I would not blame you if you left me here._

That made him laugh at least, in shock and surprise, “...Brooding papa bear vibe is...a new one.” He snorted in amusement, “I mean if you’re going to go down this line of questioning I’ll point out again that I have a daughter so giving off, “Dad energy” He drew quotation marks with his fingers, “Is only natural. hope that answers your questions.” he tried to turn back to his work.

She picked up the metaphorical scissors in her life and stared at him again, “Okay so I did the math here and I gotta know about Charlie.”

His fingers froze.  
“...I have done the people math.” _I am drunker than I thought I was_ “And I know that Charlie isn’t Coralee’s daughter.” She blundered ahead like a drunken elephant, metaphorical scissors raised high, “So that means that Doctor Dad had somebody in his life and I gotta know the details because you wander around like Giles from Buffy.”

“Who is Giles?...” now he was throughly bewildered, adjusting his glasses, laptop forgotten, wifi hotspot probably eating up his bill, “Alex, you are very drunk.”

“Giles is Buffy’s dad figure. He’s stuffy. He wears suits. He tries to provide _guidance_ and reason. He’s you. The kids on tiktok would say you ‘kin’ him because he’s basically _you._ You’re just rugged as hell and I want to just…” She wiggled her fingers and tomorrow she would apologize profusely and not talk to him for three weeks, “But he’s got a dark backstory and he had a wild college life and you have a kid so you had to have one right? So _spill_.”

Doctor Richard Strand, Director of the Strand Institute, stared at her then closed his laptop, turning away from her and tucking it under his arm. He opened the door to her room without another word and slammed it behind him, loud enough for the frame to shake. She had a brief vision in her mind of ruined straw fibers and the confusion of not having it anymore, of being unable to braid the fibers back together.

Her father had crossed his arms over his chest, _I told you Alex. Sometimes you pull things apart you can’t put it back together._ She felt like crying and wanted to hold him - instead of the other way around.  
\---

It was around 2 am and she had turned off the lights and was trying to sleep - terror keeping her eyes wide in the darkness when a soft knock at the door startled her - before it opened to reveal a sleepy looking Strand with a flask of something in one hand and a tired expression on his face.

“...You still can’t sleep can you.” 

It wasn’t a question. She just stared at him as he stepped in, turning on the light. Moving across the room, he passed her the flask.

“...Are you trying to get me drunk Doctor-”

“Keep. Talking and I will leave you here and given how drunk you are I’ll toss your keys into the puddle the locals are calling a lake outside.” His voice was ice cold. He strode across the room, passing her the flask, before moving back to the motel’s desk and sitting at it, staring at her. A very clear boundary was drawn between the two of them and, after he pulled his glasses off, he rubbed at his temple. 

“...It’s a legitimate question.” She held it and sniffed it, “This is the good stuff.”

“Your insomnia is...concerning to me.” He sniffed, “But given the circumstances the only options are strenuous physical activity-”

“That sounds-”

“Or intoxication which you seemed well on your way to anyway.” He turned the chair to sit, staring at her, “So...Given that you probably won’t remember this anyway because I don’t want it it on the damn podcast - I will tell you about Charlie.”

He grimaced, “You know everything else about me anyway.” 

_I am so sorry. I do not know what is wrong with me_ “It’s not like you’ve been hesitant to tell me things.”

His gaze shot up to stare at her. She pulled the blankets off, still in her jeans and band t-shirt, “So you shouldn’t feel...bad about it. And I don’t know why I feel bad but I kind of do. So...I don’t know where we go from here.” 

He stared at her with an exasperated look on his face. In response, she sipped at his flask and gagged, “What _is_ this?”

“Shitty Scotch. I don’t take the ‘good stuff’ with me when we travel because it’s expensive.”

Alex stared at him. He’d used the word _shitty_ , he was clearly looking at her with a different expression on his face then one she had expected. One of interest, one of resignation.

“Charlie’s mother’s name was Amber.” He murmured, “And she is dead. And no,” Richard Strand trying for levity was like a plant trying for sunlight in a darkened room, “I didn’t kill her.”  
\---

He is 25 years old and he is a different man.  
A murder trial and the loss of everyone he’d ever ared about - friends and family alike - especially his daughter will do that to a man. It will harden him. At 25 he is in college at a party casually supporting Scott Bowski’s drunken bid at beer pong.

_”...I’m sorry. Richard Strand. Playing Beer Pong. Beer. Pong. Red cups, plastic little balls…”  
“...Someone fed me after midnight. I crawled out of my apartment all scaly and creepy.”_

_Richard Strand relished the totally shocked look on Alex Regan’s face, “Did you just make an 80s movie reference!?”_

“Step in Strand! Step the fuck in!”  
“I’ve got a psych test tomorrow.” He stared at the red cup of beer, “C’mon Scott-”  
“Step in! Chug Chug Chug!-” Scott was chanting and the rest of the party joined in. Scott’s beer pong partner especially. She was a redhead with chocolate eyes and sweet full lips, “Chug Chug-”

Tilting the beer back, he shotgunned it with the air of a pro, letting out a long low belch as the partygoers cheered. Clad in a dark red flannel and a band t-shirt of his own he raised a fist and nearly stumbled.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Scott slapped him on the back “Priest boy! You’re a regular fucking bookworm man, you don’t need to be sober for a test!”

It was most likely true, but he brushed it off, “...Bein’ a genius does not come _easy_ Bowski. And ‘m a regular genius. S’true my father always used to say it.” before he walked off and died. He coughed, alcohol oozing in his head like a slug. His father had praised him and praised him and then left him with shoes to fill he could never manage. He despised him for it.

“You say father really well.” The redhead was beside him, “It’s incredibly sexy. Anybody ever tell you you have a voice for radio?” 

_M’sister actually_ \- The real reason he didn’t want to pile beer into his body was the whiskey, the scotch shots, the jello shots, and the arm slid around his waist. He leaned into her, drunker than a lord and twice as ugly. -

_”You just lost your cool points. No one says “Drunker than a lord.”_

_“Do you want to hear this or not? Stop asking questions.”_

Amber was purring against his neck, “I’ll cut right to the point.” She reached down and squeezed his jeans, “This familiar?”

“You are...not my first...fair maiden.” He was trying desperately to hold onto sobriety, “Tho uh - you’d be my second if we’re doing this.” Seeking out sex had been a biological imparative. He and Louise James. Two bookworms writhing on the ground together. It had been the two of them determined not to be the only virgins in high school. It formed a special bond and Jouise (not that Alex needed to know) was now a professor of geometry in Burbank. Friends, close friends. She was also bisexual. A strange thing for the two of them to learn.

She kissed his cheek and he frowned, “Tho uh - another uhhhh Isn’t uhh a funny word? It’s like a zombie. Uhhhhhhh” 

“What?” She was kissing down his neck, “You know for a mythology student and a religious student you’re too damn hot. Please tell me you’re not going to seminary.”

“God’s a myth.” His father’s words, “A blanket for people who are cold at night.”  
“Pity.” She whispered, “I’d love to teach you about sinning.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He bit down a grimace, “This is uh, this is awkward but um. When you see it-” She was leading him up to Scott’s roommate’s bedroom - he didn’t know the man with his chemistry posters and thank fuck he didn’t because his second time in a friend’s bed sure as shit would have been awkward. When she got his pants off she stared in shock.

“Holy shit.”  
\---  
_Alex stared at him in the darkness. For the first time in the evening it was his turn to feel ashamed for bringing up information._

_“How big are we talking?”_

_“You had better be intoxicated.”_

_“You can’t bring up shock and surprise like that without more details Doctor Starnd. Strand.” Her words slurred, “I want to know.”_

_“It is…” He sighed, “It is...big.” Maybe he was drunk too. A bottle of the cheap shit lay forlorn in his own hotel room. He’d filled a flask with the stuff in the hope she wouldn’t ask too many questions. He named a figure and she coughed up alcohol in shock, “...Jesus.”_

_“It’s like women and large breasts. It’s not something to be proud of. For all that men want that kind of thing, it either garners shock or jealousy. And praise comes with - well. It’s painful. And you get exhausted. Takes a lot to...stoke the fire so to speak.”_

_“I cannot believe that you are using metaphors to describe your second sexual experience.” Alex giggled, “Keep going.”_  
\---  
He and Amber became sexually...interested.

The thing was, as a sociology student, it was an experiment of sorts. _Sexuality and human behavior_ she murmured, lying against him, _I’ve been with...a lot of people_

“I won’t lie, I’m a little jealous.” he whispered, “I’d like to have you all to myself.” 

“Oh Richard.” Her voice was a purr to match his own, “Don’t be jealous. You’re special. And, it means you and I can be open about our interests.”

Under Amber’s tutoring he learned just as much as he did under his professors. Men and Women, partners and toys. _Sexually. A fluid experience._ she ached beneath him, _Why restrict yourself? Aren’t you fond of saying this is the only life we get?_

There was something desperate about her that inspired kindness. If they were together, he brought her flowers. Lilies. _Gabriel’s flowers. He’s probably the archangel I like best._

“You are far too sweet for your own good.” She murmured, “I hate to say it but I hope the world hardens you one day. I don’t want you to get hurt, and if you don’t get a thicker skin Strand, you are going to be killed.”  
\---  
_”...Jesus.”_

_“You asked.” his voice was harder then he intended, “You asked.”_

_“Are you making this up?”_

_“No.” He murmured, “Unfortunately.”_

_They both drank, the flask was almost empty._  
\---

There was something important he forgot. That was the only reason he knew logically that Charlie was his. There was more - emotions he wouldn’t ever share with Alex. Becoming a parent gave you a sort of superpower beyond psychic, beyond anything. Charlie had broken his heart and he would love her forever. Her existence was a firm reminder that the Strand DNA would survive (god help us all). When she felt pain he felt it, still, miles and miles away.

He is 26 and Amber asks to meet him for coffee. She is crying, or she has been crying.

“Amber? What’s wrong? Did-”

She doesn’t say a word, passing him a folder. He studied sciences, he wanted to be a scientist in his own way so he had a basic understanding of these kinds of things. Medical charts, chemistry. Opening it he stared in shock, then looked at her, then looked back at the chart. The students moved about the cafeteria but they might have all blown away to dust and nothing.

She wiped a hand over her face and he stared. His stomach rolled and he turned and grabbed for a trashcan, throwing up his breakfast. Eggs and bacon. He’d made them himself. _My mother taught me how. Unconsciously. When my father left._

“You don’t get to throw up. You don’t get to throw up!” She kept crying, “I’m Catholic you clown!” 

“You’re catholic and you’ve been doing the - the things you’ve been doing?!” He had to clean up his language, There was a baby on the way, “So you don’t-”

“Like it or not Richard Strand.” Her red hair hung down in clumps, “I am carrying your child.”  
\---  
_“Somehow I expected that.” Alex murmured, “Out of everything. I figured you got someone knocked - pregnant accidentally.” She murmured, “That makes more sense.”_

_“Why? Because big dad energy?” his voice was bitter and Alex’s hand found his shoulder. He froze and she squeezed._

_“Because you’re painfully, ridiculously shy beneath all your ego and arrogance and misanthrope tendencies. And you would want to do the right thing. So what happened?”_

_“What do you think happened? We moved in together.”_  
\---

They moved in together.  
Mostly to appease her father and mother, salt of the earth people. She stopped returning the calls of others and he was...put in the position of head of household. He confided this all to Cheryl who had flown in over coffee and was staring at him with concern.

“It suits you. I doubt you want to hear that, but it suits you big brother.” she squeezed his fingers, “You’ve always looked like dad-”

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.” he rolled his eyes, “I’m not ready for this.” He wiped a hand over his eyes, “Please. Amber is...emotional and she’s physical and she’s just this bundle of hormones and I’m not ready.” He dropped his head to the desk, “God, we bought a _crib_ and a blanket. Her apartment is filled with toys. There’s all these...things.”

She smiled, “Are you scared of stuffed animals?” 

“It’s more than stuffed animals. It’s…” The sudden presence of a woman, the way that she’s in every aspect of his life and how he wants to be kind to her. His parents are convinced she loves him but in the apartment they are practically strangers. She’s turned surprisingly devout and it makes him uncomfortable. She’s uncomfortable around his comfortable atheism. He cooks for her and she complains, constantly. She’s fat, she’s horny, she’s tired, she’s angry, and he is...an absolute failure.

She doesn’t say it but he feels like a failure and Cheryl sides across the table to hug him. It’s a lot for a PHD student. 

“...Rabbits.”  
“Sorry what?”

He’s frozen in her arms as he slumps a little against her, “I couldn’t think of anything...animals. We don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl. So I went with...small and soft. Had to go to the dollar store.”

“Richie. Get your kid some nice toys.”

“I’m saving that money!” He bleats, “I mean...I should though. Shouldn’t I?” He put his head in his hands, “...Oh God. Remember flopsie? Your toy rabbit?”

“I fucking loved that bunny.” She laughed, “You once put him in the wash and I thought you drowned him remember?”

The two of them shared a smile, “You had a blanket.” She playfully punched his shoulder, “You wrapped up flopsie in it after you washed him and we ended up playing house.” She wrapped her arms around him, gentle, “Richie, you are a caring, loving, sensitive man and you can do this. You just need to have a little faith in yourself.”  
\---

He is absolutely amazed by Amber. It’s stunning. She’s not dropped out, but he brings home her homework and cooks for her and she sleeps a lot and she’s depressed. He doesn’t have to be a psychology student to see that. He can’t help but feel like he should do something for her. Take pregnancy pictures or rub her belly (it’s impossibly large.) or do something but she has no interest in any of that. The plan is, the baby is born and they give it up for adoption. Then they go their seperate ways.

He doesn’t want that.

It’s the 8th month that he realizes he doesn’t want that. He wants to take her to Sommerville. He wants her to see where he grew up. He wants their baby to walk through the woods and to hold it on his shoulders. 

He relays all of this to her one night. She’s curled up on his shitty plaid couch and he is pleasantly buzzed. She allowed him to rub her feet and she’s staring at him incredulously.

“Married.” Her voice is flat, “You want to get married. You want to - what? Leave school?”

“Well there’s no reason we’d need to leave school.” His voice is soft, “I’m, I’d help you study. I’m finishing up my doctorate-”

“Right. Because you’re smart.” Her voice was flat, “You’re a smart rich kid and I’m a - a blue collar nothing!” Her face darkened and her eyes were wet and she shoved him away with her feet. She tried to move, tired to bolt, but her belly held her down and when he moved to help her she shoved him off.

“Don’t-” Her voice was broken, “Just-” She sniffled, “Just leave me alone.”

He slept on the couch.  
\---

_”I know you feel responsible.” Alex’s voice is soft, “But you know...she sounds like a terrible person.”_

_He was staring at nothing._

_“I know she’s Charlie’s mother-”_

_“Let me finish.” His voice was hard, “Let me finish. Before you judge her Alex. **please** ”_

_The alcohol is gone._  
\---

At 3 in the morning, he stirred underneath the blanket on his couch to find her staring at him, wrapped in his bathrobe with big hollow eyes. She knelt, touching her shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” 

Her red hair is matted and stringy.

“We could talk about it.” Her voice was raw, “Come to bed. We’ll talk about it. We...I’m scared.” She sniffled, “I don’t want to sleep alone. It-the baby keeps kicking.” She dragged a hand over her face, “The baby keeps kicking.” 

Rising, still sleepy, he gently presses a hand to the stomach attached to her. It slides downward and he feels a press of something. A foot, a hand, a heel. It’s like touching God. His whole life is rewritten and he’s angry she’s never let him do this before but also, it’s a baby.

“Holy shit.” He keeps his hand there, one other hand pressing against the top of her stomach before he wraps her in his arms, “That’s a baby. That’s our baby.”  
She laughs.  
\---

“So, when are you two due?”

“Any day now.” He’s a young man with a baby on the way and it’s maybe not that bad. It’s not. He’ll be a better father than his own ever was. Amber is still stiff, she’s still upset, but she’s trying and that’s all he can ask of her because she is...She is trying.

It’s the baby that’s the focus of his thoughts. Standing there with diapers and blankets. He’ll teach somewhere and Amber will teach maybe and they’ll have two kids. Two is a good number if he could convince her. Baby one and two. And they will play and they will be by the creek and he can...build something of a life that looks normal. They could learn to love each other for the baby’s sake. People did that right? They loved each other in the strangest of circumstances. 

When he gets home he finds his neighbor, an old lady, Mrs. Stevenson, panicked. The police are here, the _police_ but she’s smiling. And the police are also smiling even if there’s something tinged to their eyes.

“We can take you to the hospital.”  
\---

_”Something bad happens.”_

_Alex is sniffling now. Her head hurt and she felt sick. Dim light peered over the horizon - she thought. She could see a sliver of something. Strand isn’t looking at her._

_“It’s cliche with you.” and she can’t muster a negative remark about himself because he is fucking wallowing. No one’s life is this sad._

_“She dies.”_

_She can’t even feel bad when he stares at her, features stoic and blank._  
\---

“One more push! One more Amber!”

She screamed and Richard Strand fought the urge to puke all over the floor. The doctors were all smiling. The nurses too. The human vagina was an incredible organ. Amber had pushed out a child, covered in slim and muck and twitching and wriggling. He would never have another again. How could anyone put a woman through that? Why would anyone do that? It was a baby, but Amber was writhing in fluids and screaming and-

After one final howl she pushed the baby out and the doctor put something over it’s - no Her! A daughter! His daughter’s mouth. A ragged cry filled the room and Amber turned away, sobbing and smiling. 

It would work. It would all work out. The doctor wrapped the squalling creature in a hospital blanket and he couldn’t wait to see her happy and clean and hold her himself. Puckered little face crying, Amber held out her arms and put the child to her chest and closed her eyes enraptured. He wrapped them in his arms himself, putting a hand to the baby’s head. He kissed her, the three of them encircled.  
\---  
_”...I do not believe in God.” He murmured, voice wry, “Even now.”_

_His features softened, “But I could believe in a higher power. I could believe in the miracle of life. That’s why I do this Alex. You need to understand that. Life is miraculous enough. Holding Charlie for the first time was...magical.”_

_She was feeling sleepy. Actually sleepy listening to it._

_“I was adopted.” She said softly, “...Joking aside. I wish I...I knew someone loved me like that.” Her eyes filled with tears and she lay back on the bed, “God I wish someone loved me like that. Listening to you talk about how happy you were to see her. I know my parents loved me, but it’s not the same. It’s not...It’s not the fucking same…”_

_Silence filled the hotel room and she saw Strand, wordlessly kick off his boots and move to hold her. She froze, then melted instantly into his embrace. He let go quickly, and she followed suit._

_“Now comes the sad part.”_  
\---

“Mr. Strand...we can’t stop the bleeding.”

He is staring at the baby. He heard them speak. He heard them speak fifteen years ago. Fifteen minutes ago. He can’t. It feels like his heart is breaking.

“...Your wife-”

“She’s not my wife.”

“Your girlfriend.” the doctor’s voice was soft, “We need contact information for her. We need to call them to make arrangements. For the worst. And your daughter…” 

He can’t. His daughter is sleeping peacefully. His eyes fill with tears. The baby wails and he nods mutely.

The people who would have been his in-laws were soft and fleshy. Amber Gillespie - that had been her name, Gillespie, had hated her mother and father. He had hit her and his wife and he came in like a whirlwind and grabbed for him by the throat.  
“You son of a bitch! You goddamn spoiled son of a bitch. You goddamn bastard! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!-” 

One of the male nurses hit him then. The older larger man went down and his wife screamed but Richard stood there, terrified. The police were called and the other man was arrested. He was pinned against the wall as Richard sat on a bench. Cheryl appeared like an angel, wrapping her arms around him. 

“Mr. Strand? It’s time.”

She pulled away gently, “Do you want me...Do you want me to come with you?” her voice was soft, “...Richie?...”

“No.” 

Amber had been cleaned up. Her hair was plastered to her head, breathing shallow. Her face was pale and thin.

“...Hey. Mr. Radio voice.” Her voice was breathy, soft, “...How’s...our baby?” she took his hand, face soft, “...She’s okay?”

“Yeah.” He laughed weakly, “Yeah I don’t - we need a name. We never picked a name.” 

“I never thought I would…” she laughed weakly, “Oh...god. What do you want to call...her?” she breathed, “We need a...a name. Your...dad-mom-”

“No! God no.” He laughed weakly and pulled a chair up to sit beside her, “...It should be interesting. Like us. Because we’re so interesting.” He kissed her hands, “We’re fluid, and this is...this is the only life we live.” He wished that. God he wished more than anything that there was some place for her to go. So Charlie could know her. So he could find her again, He leaned his forehead against hers and stroked her hair.

“...Think...of something please…” Her eyes glazed over for a moment, “...Please-”

Panic filled his chest. This was it, he could see the end of life in her eyes and he just _knew_ in his heart of hearts…

His stomach churned and he turned to see a janitor with a mop and a bucket and a nametag. Whirling back to her, he squeezed it out.

“How about Charlie?”

“...Charlie!” Amber nodded, “I like it. Charlie...Strand.” She stroked his cheek, “You did all right...radio voice.” Her eyes closed and he swore he could feel the light go out of the room.  
\---

Years later, lying beside a different woman, Richard Strand realized he hadn’t thought about Amber in years. They hadn’t really been in _love_ , he understood that now. They were children thrown together by desperation and Charlie. The moment he held Charlie he knew what love was.

But there was a bond with a woman you had a child with. Well hell, a bond with anyone you invested time with like that…

He shook his head and felt sick because that was such a cold clinical way of looking at it and after everything, every single thing that had gone wrong in his life…

“Did you make that up?” Alex slurred her words and he sighed, “It’s like the plot of a lifetime movie.”

“Unfortunately no.” 

“Does Charlie know?”

“Yes.”

“...s’that why the dad thing bothers you? Cause like, it was filled with trauma?” 

He sighed, “That and no man wants to be told he has “big dad energy” Alex that should be obvious.” 

“...I think it’s attractive.” her voice slurred. She rolled over onto her side, “You’re safe and yeah it’s an issue, but fuck.” Her lips mumbled, “Fuck.”

“I’m...did you just say it was attractive?”

His eyes opened sharply at that, “Alex? Alex wake up.” 

The only sound from beside him was a light snore.  
\---

“I’m driving.” Afternoon into evening sunset hit him and Alex was holding her head and pounding, “You got some sleep?”

“No thanks to you.” She rubbed at her head, “I’m hungry but I think I might be sick if I eat anything.”

“We’ll stop and get you something greasy.” he was patient and understanding, studying her. He swallowed then, staring at her for a moment and then, “Alex...do you remember last night?”

“...no.” She stared, “Why? Oh god. What did I do? What did you do?”

“...Nothing.” He swallowed, “Come on. Let’s get you something to eat.”


End file.
